It’s been an intense few days. Meeting at Bertlesmann board floor in Manhattan followed by dinner at the The Palm. Peripheral Visionaries, now blogged by Brough and Jeff and Susan Crawford with greater breadth and analysis than I could muster. Then a focused 36 hours in Chicago on business that I shouldn’t talk about. Too little sleep.
Work done, my colleague George and I decided to unwind tonight at Blue Chicago on 536 Clark Street, where the graffitti in the men’s room proclaims “it’s not how many breaths you take in life, it’s how many times life takes your breath away”. We got the corner seats just to the left of the bar, best seats in the house, in this small, perfect gritty blues club. Old cigarette-burned, wood bar moved in from a Chinese restaurant 15 years ago just to show they’re not that serious. Tattooed bartender. Cold Coronas. Shirley Johnson was singing to the smoking blues guitar from I think they said Alvin McGinney, or maybe it was Calvin. Can’t find him on google, but man was he good. TakeBreathAway++; OK, I’m a geek.
This is Chicago.